


Let's Get Wasted

by PJTL156



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Almost Rape/Non-Con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-04
Updated: 2012-08-04
Packaged: 2017-11-11 10:48:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/477729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJTL156/pseuds/PJTL156
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>M for content & language. Germany and Italy decide to go to a bar and get wasted. After a few beers Germany gets rejected by a woman. A plan clicks in his head that freaks Italy out. Will he make a huge mistake or realize it before it's too late? GerIta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let's Get Wasted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Hetalia.

"Hey, Italy?" Germany says to Italy as he walks into the [kitchen](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7641677/1/Lets_Get_Wasted).

"Ve?"

"Let's get wasted."

"Okay!" He yells while running towards his friend. Germany grabs his winter coat from the closet and throws Italy his. Of course it lands on the floor because he misses. The German just shakes his head and smiles to himself. Once Italy gets his coat on, with some help, they walk to Germany's favorite bar. It's not far from his house.

Once they arrive they order a beer each. They drink some from their [mug](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7641677/1/Lets_Get_Wasted) and chitchat.

"How's your Haus been?" Germany asks.

"Good, but Romano's being a pain. Yesterday I went to the store without him and got some groceries."

"Let me guess, tomatoes und pasta?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Italy asks shocked.

"Lucky guess," Germany says sarcastically as he takes another drink from his mug. Naturally, Italy doesn't realize the dripping sarcasm. He takes a sip from his own glass. Even though Italy's only on his first beer he's already getting buzzed.

They talk for another hour or so about nothing in particular. By then Germany is on his third beer and relaxed. He stares at something over Italy's shoulder while the Italian talks. Italy keeps talking until he realizes Germany's not paying any attention. Curiosity gets the best of him.

"What?"

"I'm going to go get some pussy," Germany says in a growl as he puts down his drink. Italy looks horrified and chokes on air. Drunken Germany doesn't realize how awkward he's making his friend feel. It's a relief to Italy when Germany gets up and stumbles over to a [pretty woman](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7641677/1/Lets_Get_Wasted).

"Ve…" Italy says to himself.  _He can get weird when he's drunk._ Italy can't hear what he says, but sees he gets beer thrown on him, then slapped across the face. She walks away. The defeated man clenches his fists, then slowly turns and walks back to the table. He's red with anger, embarrassment, and from the warmth of beer he's drank. He mumbles something incomprehensible, then sits down. His elbows rest on the table as he puts his head in his hands.  _He should have asked me for advice. I'm better with the ladies than he is,_ Italy thinks.

"Eh, Germany?"

"What?" he says, muffled by his hands.

"How'd it go?" The German looks at Italy annoyed.

"'How'd it go?' 'How'd it go?'! How do you  _think_  it went?"

"Not good?"

"Right," Germany says while gulping down the last of his mug. The drenched man grabs a napkin from the table and wipes himself off as best he can. It doesn't work very well. He looks around the bar waiting for a challenge.  _If anyone says a thing about me getting rejected I'll kick their ass._ Gladly, no one does. They're all in their own gloomy, drunken world.

Italy takes another sip of beer for some liquid courage.

"What did you say?"

"I said: You got me as big as a horse. If you come back to mein Haus I'll show you." Brown eyes get wide.  _Wow, don't know how_ that  _didn't work,_  he thinks sarcastically.

"What did she say?" Germany pauses while looking down and fingering at his empty mug.

"She didn't." Italy figures he'd better drop the subject before he regrets it.

Germany suddenly yells, "Björn! Give us another round," and Italy jumps an inch off his chair.

"Jawohl, Herr Germany!" Another blonde man yells back while walking over to their table with two full mugs. It's Italy's second tonight and Germany's fourth. They had only been there for two hours. The blonde gulps down more beer, then looks at Italy and slowly licks the froth off his mouth. The problem is that he does it sensually. It instantly creeps Italy out and makes him shiver. Germany wipes the rest away with his hand.

Suddenly, Germany stands up. Italy doesn't know what he's doing, so he just sits back in wonder.

"Kommen," the burly man orders with a hand motion. His eyes look dead. Italy gulps.

"Wh-why?"

"Just get up!" Italy cowers, but does as he's told. He almost says: "You're scaring me," but doesn't want to look weak in front of all the Germans, especially his, so he doesn't say anything. A strong hand is placed on Italy's back. It pushes him towards the exit.  _Oh Dio. At least he's not taking me into the bathroom._ He feels almost relieved by that, but he still doesn't know what his drunken friend is thinking.  _What is he doing with me?_   _Where is he taking me?_

"Gute Nacht, Herr Germany," Björn yells.

"Eh… gute Nacht."  _It's not that gut of a Nacht_ , Germany thinks. Italy looks around as he's being lead to his possible doom. No one looks at him in wonder. They seem to not care.  _I'm so screwed._

They walk into the brisk darkness. If it weren't for the lights inside poking through they'd be swallowed by the tranquil sky. Italy wishes for some tranquility right now.  _I wish I knew what he's thinking. He's scary when he acts like this._

Germany continues to lead him a ways further, until he does something unexpected. It makes Italy feels almost violated. He scoops up the brunette with ease and throws him over his shoulder.

"WAAAH! Germany! Let me go!"

"Nein," Germany says with a huff as he's kicked in the ribs. "Verdammt, stop kicking me."

"I will if you let me down."

"Okay, fine." Italy stops and waits to be let down, but isn't. Germany continues his sentence: "Kick away." He does, until Germany wraps his right arm around his legs and pulls them to his chest. Now he can't get momentum to kick.  _Bastardo._

"Where are you taking me?" The attempt at sounding courageous fails. His voice comes out shaky and horrified.

"You'll see." Italy can't see his captors face, but he's pretty sure he's smiling.  _Ma che diavolo?_

"I'm serious, Germany. Where are we going? You'r-" He stops himself.  _No, I can't tell him I'm scared. I can't let him see I'm weak. I have to be brave._ A light bulb goes off in his head. _Wait…_ "Hey? Is this a test?"

"Nein." Italy's body collapses. His head rests against Germany's back and his arms swing with Germany's steps.

"Ve…"  _If he's telling the truth, and this isn't a test, then what is it?_ He's not sure if he wants to know.

A couple of minutes later Germany stops. Italy thinks he's finally going to be set free, but he's sadly mistaken. Instead he hears jingling and a door opening. He moves his head to see where they are. They're in Germany's house.  _Oh, no._   _What are we going to do_ now _?_  He gulps. Italy's mind flashes horrible images he can barely fathom. Most of them involve him screaming in pain and fear as Germany smiles and sodomizes him. The images somehow get worse as he sees they're heading towards the bedroom.

"Where are we going?" Italy screams. Germany sighs. He's getting tired of not explaining.

"The bedroom." Italy's eyes get wide in horror.

"What are we going to do in the bedroom?" he says weakly. He doesn't actually want to know.

"I'm going to make you mein bitch." The harshness of his words make Italy's mind goes blank.

"AAAAAAAHH!" Italy screams. It's the only thing he can think of. Tears streak down his face.

"Shut up!" the angry blonde screams back with more force.

"No! I won't shut up! Let me go! Let me go! Germany! Let me go!" At this point Germany flings Italy to the bed. His coat, along with Italy's, is flung to the floor in one motion.

"Nein! I have a problem and I want you to fix it," Germany says while climbing on top of Italy. He struggles, but can't get out from under the stronger, heavier man. "My problem is growing and you're not making it any better. I like it rough, and I don't like to masturbate; it's disgusting. So, you know what that means, don't you?" He growls this into the brunette's ear. Italy feels like he's about to throw up.

"Please, Germany. Stop. Don't rape me," Italy sobs.

"It's not rape!" Apparently the beer is clouding his senses.

"Yes it is! I'm not consenting!" There's a pause. Reality seems to hit the German in the face when he sees Italy's been crying the entire time.

"You're right." Germany gets off from Italy and slides to the ground. He's still for a second thinking to himself.  _What have I done? How could I do this? He's terrified of me._   _Arschloch, he'll never forgive you!_ he tells self-hatred his fists pound the floor until they're left red and chafed. Once his anger at himself is let out tears streak down his face. He curls into a fetal position and puts his head in his hands. Italy lies on his back for a second longer before he lifts himself up.  _Che cazzo?_ His face is one of utter shock. The German is sobbing hysterically on the floor. Italy's absolutely speechless.

"Why don't you love me?" the still drunken German manages to choke out.  _Is he kidding? He tries to molest me, then he asks me_ that _?_  Italy wants to be royally pissed, but he isn't. The natural sweetness in Italy makes him want to comfort his friend, even under the bizarre circumstances.  _Well, he is drunk. I guess it's not_ completely  _his fault._

"I do love you," Italy admits while lowering himself next to Germany. He's close, but not touching. He still feels sick from their earlier unwilling closeness. The beer didn't help.

"Then why won't you have sex with me?"

"Are you kidding me? You were on top of me with a hard-on without my consent! That's not sex, that's attempted rape!" Italy says furiously.  _I should kill him._   _No one would blame me. Probably wouldn't even think I did it. Maybe I could find an island somewhere and hide out…?_

Germany takes a chance and looks over at him with shame. His friend can tell he's extremely angry with himself. Italy's own anger is starting to melt.  _Never mind. I won't kill him._

"I'm sorry, Italy. I really am. The beer made mein judgment cloudy. I wanted you, but didn't know how to say it. I'm not gut at getting people into bed with me. I can barely even smile. I'm not trying to make an excuse. You have every right to walk out of here and never talk to me again." Redness washes over him. He's so embarrassed and ashamed of his actions he looks away. Italy can't help but feel bad for him, as much as he wishes he didn't. Sadness radiates off from Germany and into Italy's heart.

"I'm not going to leave." He shocks himself when he says this.  _How could I be so stupid? I shouldn't trust him after what he's done. Why do I still not want to leave his side after all of this?_

Germany sniffs and looks back. "You're not?"

"No, I'm not."

"…Danke," he says very lightly. Italy pats his shoulder, then talks without thinking. Not that that isn't normal.

"You know, if you would have asked instead of carrying me off I might have said yes." Sea blue eyes meet caramel ones.

"R-really?"

"Sì."

Germany smiles slightly.  _I can't believe it. I didn't scare him away._  "You're braver than I thought."

"And you're not very good at picking up women… or men," Italy teases with a wink. "Well, physically you can."

"Ja, das ist true." His smile gets somewhat bigger.

They sit there for what seems like a long time. There's silence except for the faint sounds of nature. It's not as awkward as it should be. Germany starts to sober up some more. They both are deep in thought, or at least they're pretending to be. The tension in the atmosphere is getting to be too much. A certain blonde decides to break through the silence.

"Do you think you'll ever forgive me?" Italy scrunches his face in thought.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Germany looks at Italy weakly. It almost breaks Italy's heart.

"I think I already have forgiven you," he says and means it. "And crying doesn't fit you," Italy says as he wipes the tears off Germany's skin. The German doesn't quite know what to do. If he hugs him, Italy might feel uncomfortable, and a kiss on the cheek would probably result in his second bitchslap of the night. He doesn't have to worry about it. Italy has him covered. Wet lips smack up against his before he can bat an eye. He's not sure if he should react, so he doesn't. When Italy pulls away and looks hurt by the rejection he knows he did the wrong thing.

"Sorry. I didn't want to scare you off… again." His hand rubs his neck to comfort himself. It doesn't actually work, but it's worth a shot.

"You won't," he assures him.

"People think I forgive easily, but you are much better than ich."

"It's better to forgive than to dwell on the past."

"True," he says with a genuine smile. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"How about  _you_  make  _me_  feel better?" the Italian says. Germany cocks his head.

"Huh?" Italy answers him with another kiss. This time Germany grabs onto Italy and pulls him in close. He screwed up their first kiss, so he sure as hell wasn't messing up this one. When they break apart Italy stands up. It sends a look of confusion to Germany. Italy sternly says, "Come here." Germany feels himself turning red as he stands. He had said about the same thing earlier, but in his native tongue. Shame starts to trickle back, until Italy pushes it away. Literally. He pushes Germany onto the bed, which startles the stronger man. Italy jumps on, too, and straddles Germany, who stays on his back. Instead of getting himself into more trouble he decides to let Italy take over their escapade. He doesn't have to wait long before Italy basically devours his lips. Instead of listening to himself he pulls Italy in close.  _He said he forgives me and I won't scare him away again, but I'm not so sure. He does want me to pay him back for what I did, so I guess I'll do whatever he says._  Italy plans on just that.  _I'm going to make him do_ whatever _I want. He's going to regret scaring me like he did. Like they say, payback is a bitch._

Now their roles are turned. The only other difference is this time it's consensual.

"Now you're  _my_  bitch," he growls. "Take off your shirt. It's an order." Germany feels like laughing at Italy's serious tone, but decides not to. For once he doesn't have to be the one in control.  _This is kind of nice._  Of course Germany won't disobey an order, so he does as he's told. Italy's not really sure what to do, but knows he'll figure it out as they go. Italy grabs Germany's top and throws it to the ground along with his own.

"Take off your pants," Italy barks. It doesn't work very well, since he's still straddling him. Patience isn't in Italy's vocabulary, so he helps. It takes them a little longer than it should. Mostly because Italy doesn't want to leave his position on top of Germany. They finally succeed in their tag team. Once they do the Italian's eyes get wide.

"Wow, you weren't kidding about that horse thing." Italy looks down hungrily and Germany smiles.

"I don't kid around. You should know that."

While struggling with his fly he says, "Okay, now you help me." Germany does it gratefully. They manage to get Italy's pants past his hips. Before he can get them off completely he has to lie on top of the other man. He struggles with his pants while his face is next to Germany's. The blonde sees the perfect opportunity. He takes Italy's curl of hair in his mouth. Since he knows it's his erogenous zone, he sucks on it. A gasp comes from Italy's lips, then an appreciative moan. Somehow Italy's pants fly off him and to the floor in one motion. Italy's fast when he wants to be. Their complete nakedness makes it hard for them to wait any longer.

"Get on your hands and knees. You deserve to be punished," Italy barks as he regretfully gets off from Germany. The blonde does as he says.

"Jawohl."

Italy doesn't give him any warning as they start their union. Germany lets out an instant groan of pain. Italy can't help but smile at it.  _He probably likes it. I bet he's a masochist._  He's invasion of Germany's body hurts, but in a good way.  _It's probably better that I'm the cushion this time und Italy's the pin. He needs to know he can trust me, and this is the best way I know how. I'm completely at his beckon call._

It's a new experience for both of them. Germany had never been with a man, and somehow this was Italy's first time. What a weird first time it was. Somehow what started as attempted defilement had turned consensual. How exactly this had happened, neither one of them was sure.  _It seems weird that I'm the one in charge of him. I can make him do anything and he'll do it! I like this._  Italy slams himself into Germany once again and he moans. It's music to the brunette's ears. He moves he hands to Germany's chest and moans himself.  _Damn, he's chiseled._ Yet again he slams into his partner and gets the same reaction.

"Do you want more?"

"Yes," the German says almost breathless and seeing stars.

"Good, 'cuz you're gonna get it." Italy moves his hands to Germany's back. He digs his nails through his skin and runs them down from his neck to the small of his back. Germany makes a sound of pain while panting.

"Did you like that?" Italy asks hoping he did.

"Yes," he answers back. Italy's not sure if he's says this because he's being dominated, or because it's true.  _Maybe a little of both?_ Sadism is starting to be fun for Italy in the bedroom.  _Now I know why he likes to hurt people. Who knew causing pain could be a turn-on?_

He decides to kick it up a notch. Since Germany enjoys pain, and Italy was enjoying giving it to him, he figures he will wham him unforgivingly until they are both exhausted. And he does just that. While he thrusts into Germany he keeps his nails clenched into his skin. Germany moans, which makes Italy see stars himself. Italy continues their kinky union. It doesn't take long before they both come and are completely spent. Germany collapses on his stomach and Italy does the same.

"Wow. That was good. I think we're even," Italy barely manages to say. Germany's grateful.  _Vardammen, I'm sore as hell. I guess that's what I get._

"Gut. Danke."

They lie next to each other panting like mad. Blonde strands stick to Germany's brow from sweat. Italy's does the same. For a few minutes they lay there trying to catch their breath.

"Don't get use to me doing what you tell me to do," Germany warns.

"Not even in the bedroom?" Italy asks with sad, puppy dog eyes. It melts Germany's heart as it usually does.  _Verdammt. He can make me do anything, can't he?_

"Maybe in the bedroom, but nowhere else," he says in a smile.

"Ve," Italy says with satisfaction.

The pair cuddles up next to each other for a while before something unexpected happens.

"Oh, no," Italy says while scrambling out of bed. Germany jumps up in a panic.

"What's wrong, Italy?" All Germany can see is a blur of tan and brown running into the bathroom. In no time he's running after him. "Italy?" When he goes in he sees Italy lurching over the toilet. Without a thought otherwise, he bends down and rubs his back.

"It's okay, Italy. It's just the beer mixed with motion sickness."

The sick man continues to empty his stomach. Before long he's more exhausted than he was in bed. Germany can tell. He picks him up and holds him with one arm while giving him mouthwash with the other. Italy gladly accepts it and gurgles. Once he's done Germany picks him up with both arms and carries him back to bed.

"Thank you," Italy says ashamed from throwing up. Yet again he manages to wiggle his way into the blonde's heart and pull its' strings. Germany kisses Italy's forehead, which gets him a small smile in return.

"You're welcome, und don't be ashamed of it. It happens to all of us." Italy seems to be satisfied with this. They get back by the bed and Germany lays him down. He grabs the covers and tucks him in. Italy smiles at him and he returns it. The blue eyed man goes around and gets in himself. As he's fixing his covers Italy comes over and snuggles into him once more. Germany puts one arm around Italy's shoulders and the other rests on his partner's abdomen. He soothingly rubs Italy's stomach to comfort him, and it seems to work. A purr seems to come from Italy's lips.  _He's such a weird man, but he's mine, so I can't complain. I love his eccentric nature._

It's almost as if Italy hears his thought, because he decides to say something very eccentric.

"Eh, Germany?"

"Huh? What's wrong? You're not going to throw up again, are you?" he says concerned.

"No, but I did just throw up, and we had sex, and that's where babies come from, so I'm not pregnant, am I?" The freaked out Italian seems to say all of this in a second. A bewildered look spreads over Germany. He lies there wondering if he should be mad at him for being so oblivious, or laugh. He does a little bit of both.

"Are you kidding me? Italy, for one: you're a male, two: you're a country, und three: I'm the one that got screwed, not you."

"So?" Even with losing his virginity he manages to not lose his innocence.

"'So?'!" he mimics. "That means you're not pregnant, und never will be." Italy sighs in relief.

"Good, I was scared for a minute." There's silence for a little longer until he decides to speak again. " _You're_  not pregnant, are you?" Though Germany's blood is starting to boil he bites his tongue. A flood of anger surges through him, but won't let it come out. He tries to calm himself before answering.  _I don't want to scare him. Keep your cool. Don't snap. Don't snap._

"Nein, I'm not pregnant. I never will be. I'm not a girl, Italy. Neither are you."

"Okay," Italy says cheerfully as he snuggles into the blonde even more. Happiness replaces anger. Germany kisses his cheek and Italy smiles. Germany can't help himself. He smiles back.  _Ja, I do love his eccentricities. It can be annoying, but it's better to be with him than be lonely._   _I hate loneliness._

"Italy?"

"Ve?"

"Are you sure you're not mad at me?" he asks, hinting at his earlier drunken advances.

"No, I could never stay mad at you. We're completely even. Just forget about it," he says while looking up in Germany's oceanic eyes.

"Gut, I'm glad." Germany now fully believes him. A flash of happiness is shown in Italy's caramel orbs. He's sure the same is in his.

They lay there for a while thinking about the night they had. Germany's still ashamed, but since Italy's not mad at him he decides he shouldn't dwell on it.  _I guess the past is behind us._ Italy's not the type to hold a grudge, and he knows Germany will never try to hurt him again, so he feels safe.  _He learned his lesson and now we're connected forever. I couldn't be happier._

The night was almost over and they were both exhausted. The beer was making sleep nip at their heels. Before they fall into unstoppable bliss Italy picks up his head and kisses Germany. He kisses back. They let it linger before they reluctantly pull away.

"Gute Nacht, Italy… Ich liebe dich," Germany admits in a smile. His face tinges pink.

"Buonanotte, Germany. Ti voglio bene, anche." Italy mimics.

Within a few short minutes they're both sound asleep. Their wasted night wasn't so wasted after all.


End file.
